Today (November 16) Nesby Phips released Therapy, an album co-created with producer Prospek. For Nesby—a creator for whom the term “artist” is simply too reductive—the album signifies a return, of sorts. It’s the first since 2017’s stand-out effort, Black Man 4 Sale, and the newest example of creative fortitude in the rapper and producer’s body of work. But it’s also something different, entirely.
“Technically, it has nothing to do with therapy, specifically,” he tells me of the album (which features contributions from Able Chris and Chicago’s MC Tree). “This project was mostly done some years ago, and I wrapped it up this year. At the time, the process that me and the producer, Prospek, did was therapeutic to us as musicians. We needed a reset as musicians. We said, ‘Forget trying to play the game. Let’s just create for the sake of creating.’ We did it with all live instruments. He and I are both hip-hop producers, so there was the [crate] digging aspect, the sampling, chopping. Back in the day, they mainly did it with four instruments: piano, bass. guitar and drums. Now, you got 20,000 sounds in the VST [Virtual Studio Technology], so we’re talking about an astronomical amount of shit we got access to. We just wanted to simplify it.”
Prospek made it easy to strip things down. “He has a set-up that isn’t even linked to a computer. He’s got it running straight to a tape machine. And when I tell you…two things happened when I was with him in the studio. One, I went into a time warp. Just hearing the drums he put on there and the bass, it was the warmest, most refreshing feeling. It felt like my grandmother was in the next room. And then, when I pressed play on that tape machine, I felt the machine respond to the touch of my hand. It really struck a chord in me. It woke up something that had been dead. To actually feel the music I was making, that done something to me. Getting back to the basics was a musical re-set.”
Though the album’s material isn’t necessarily specific to mental health, the timing of its release does coincide with some self-care on his part. “I wasn’t educated on mental health when we started the album. Since then, ironically, I am. I started therapy this year and I’m glad I did. Three weeks after I started, my best friend died. He was murdered. So therapy, itself, I love and respect. It’s a brain mechanic. It’s bringing your brain to Jiffy Lube.”
Now that Therapy is done, he says, it’s time to cultivate the next chapter of his career.
“I’m in a different space. I’m trying to work through where I am as a musician,” says Nesby. “My goal right now is catalog building. Building a catalog and touring it are the two main focuses. I have a better understanding of what I’m doing and the business I’m operating. It’s the business of IPs [Intellectual Property]. I’m trying to balance that business side with the art. I’m looking forward to jumping back all the way into the art side and, when the next whatever is done, locking that art in a box, bringing it into the office and we’re gonna push the IP. I’m excited to execute that.”
Bringing concepts to fruition has been a keystone in Nesby’s career, both in and out of music. He’s found success (and lessons about life) in everything from his work as a barber to selling lemonade at construction sites. He’s also the brains behind NOLA Gold Booth, a fledgling digital photo-booth company. His “Domesticated Rap Dad” social-media posts have earned him more attention as of late, and he has plans to make it a YouTube series. All of these ventures have shown him the value of the extemporaneous.
“People be trying to figure out the algorithm,” he says. “You gotta just ride the fucking wave. It’s the people not riding the wave that’s trying to figure it all out. I do before I think. I need a point of reference. I gotta go out and touch the world and work with raw materials before I can execute an idea. Most people work strictly off of the template and what has happened before them. All while we’re in an ever-changing world.
Before, I used to just be winging it in life, as a musician. I was making beats in airports, not knowin’ where it would land. Now, we’ve got way more control over the marketplace. And access to the marketplace. At the time I became known, I had to go through people. I had to use blogs, go through iTunes, go through this person, that person. Those gatekeepers don’t exist no more, technically. I have a whole re-approach to my career as an artist.”
The gatekeepers may be gone, but they’ve been replaced with something more valuable: a toolbox. Careers can be built from the palms of hands now, something particularly valuable to creatives previously kept out of certain rooms.
As he tells me, “It’s great to see people of color take control of their work because, before, we didn’t have access to the tools. Even though we were always the bulk of the output. I believe music is New Orleans’ number-one export and also, probably, America’s. And we’re the majority of it. It’s good to see us move closer to ownership, which comes from executing your idea, yourself. But I see everyone doing it, not just people of color, because the tools are available. Everybody’s creating some kind of content. Even though there’s an influx of bullshit, that also means good shit is coming. It’s a numbers game.”
He uses the analogy of the supermarket to illustrate his point. “The produce section is usually the smallest section in the grocery store. It’s also the healthiest. So, when it comes to being good, it’s always going to be a smaller pool. The rest of the market is filled with Fritos and Hot Pockets. That’s how the game is.”
In his latest music video, for Therapy‘s “Holy Water,” Nesby performs a song that, like much of his writing, is abstract in its provenance. “The most deliberate I’ve been in my writing was on Black Man 4 Sale. I love the freedom of writing because I’m not tied down to anything. There’s so much more outside of what we’ve established already,” he says. “I want to explore that. This whole project was made off of sheer instinct. Improv, if you will.”
“Holy Water” is anchored in the concept of Knowledge of Self and, as Nesby describes it, “the God within.” It’s a familiar topic to longtime fans of his. “Searching for knowledge of self is something that really catapulted me, as an individual. Especially when it comes to going from a boy to a man. I constantly push that message out in my music. Not to preach it to others, but it’s something I constantly relive, every day.”
The song is, in part, about creating his own Bible, or guide to life. “It wasn’t written, but this’ll work,” he raps.
The perpetual pursuit of self sounds difficult, but Nesby says it’s pretty simple. And he’s right. “I’m all about creating my Self. Whatever you are, you choose it. You are responsible for your life. Whatever circumstances were there before you, for the most part, you can’t do nothin’ about. The majority of what’s going on in your life is there because of a decision you made. Life is all about making your sandwich. It’s your sandwich. What you want on it?”
Musicians, he says, would benefit from adopting a more proactive sense of Self-determination in their career approaches. “Some people, without even realizing it, sign up to be the starving artist. They’ve accepted their role. They make it that, for themselves. For one, by making themselves local. Nobody’s stopping you from getting in the car and going to Ocean Springs, Mobile, Jackson, Birmingham…Germany. Fuck it. It’s a plane ticket.”
When I ask him if he thinks New Orleans hip-hop artists have a misconception that, like many artists before them, success must be found elsewhere before it can be achieved here, he agrees—to a point.
“Technically, you do gotta be put on somewhere,” he tells me. “It starts here, but you gotta know when to re-pot yourself. You don’t have to literally uproot your entire life. Some things grow better in specific environments. Huskies don’t do well down here. Why? ‘Cause they’re made to be in cold weather. You gotta know when to put your shit in the window so it can get the light, and when to move back to the middle of the room. You gotta know when to water it, and when not to. So, it’s not a misconception, it’s an unwillingness. People marry themselves to this place. No matter where I go, I’ma be from New Orleans. When I lived in New York, I didn’t have any idea how long I was gonna stay. But I wasn’t even thinking that far.”
In December, Nesby will deliver his manifesto of self-reliance to students at Loyola University.”I tried to go to Loyola for music business before the hurricane. Now, I’m going to lecture there,” he says. “I’m coming back to teach their students, who are paying umpteenth thousands of dollars to be there—just to hear about how I just go out and wing it.”
He’ll also use the opportunity to teach students about the two kinds of people in this world, whom he calls the “How Come-rs” and the “Why Not-ers.” He is, of course, the latter. Unfortunately, the majority are bogged down in the “hows” of life.
“They’re driving the whip and looking at the map. You can’t do both. I guarantee you, I’m gonna get way further than you by driving than looking at the map.”
